Bringing the Polish Dyngus Day tradition to South Dakota

FROM THE EDITOR:

As a recent transplant to South Dakota, the question I'm most often asked (besides "Cold enough for ya?") is what I miss most about my old life back in Indiana.

Well, the answer changes from day to day. But I can say, without any doubt, the thing I miss most today is Dyngus Day.

Dyngus Day is a Polish tradition celebrated on Easter Monday. When explaining the concept to the uninitiated, I mention that just as Mardi Gras is the last day to party before the fasting season of Lent begins, Dyngus Day is the first day to party after Easter. In effect, they are bookends to the Lenten season - no matter that Dyngus Day is not as popular as its bourbon-soaked New Orleans counterpart.

While Buffalo, N.Y., with its large Polish population, claims to be ground zero for Dyngus Day in the United States, I'll put my money on my hometown of South Bend, Ind., as the world's greatest Dyngus celebration.

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In particular, the west side of South Bend - where I grew up - is famous for its Dyngus Day activities.

A large enclave of Polish immigrants have lived in northern Indiana and the south side of Chicago for generations, basically making a ring around the bottom of Lake Michigan.

(OK, I know what you're asking yourself: "Perry - how is that a Polish name?" Well, the story goes, my family name was mercifully shortened several generations ago. But my paternal grandmother and both grandparents on my mother's side all had Polish names: heavy on the consonants, light on the vowels. Heck, my grandma was raised Harriet Strozewski on Poland Street in South Bend, if that tells you anything!)

Back in Poland, Dyngus Day was a celebration for kids. Little boys marked the occasion by chasing girls, hitting them in the legs with switches and splashing them with buckets of water. No, I'm not sure the point of all of this, either, but it explains Dyngus' other nickname, "Wet Monday."

In America, Dyngus Day is an excuse for Poles and the Polish-at-heart to dress in bowling shirts and silly hats, eat lots of sausage, boiled eggs and pierogis, drink beer (many prefer Old Style; I lean toward Miller High Life) and dance the polka all day and night.

In South Bend, Dyngus Day is known as a political holiday, with politicians stumping all day long. Much of this activity in the city takes place at the West Side Democratic Club and starts early in the morning. It's not always this exciting, but two of the famous moments in South Bend Dyngus history were in 1968, when Bobby Kennedy came to the club, and again in 2008, when Bill and Chelsea Clinton campaigned on the west side for Hillary Clinton's presidential bid.

As those little ethnic neighborhoods change, the tradition lives on.

Four hours south in Bloomington, Ind., where I lived the past 20 years, we had a Dyngus celebration of our own at a local bar. That night was geared toward the college kids from Indiana University - not a lot of Polish in Bloomington. I know where my Indiana friends will be tonight, playing music and enjoying Dyngus Day.

While we are missing our traditional Dyngus Day, my wife and I are looking forward to learning about those little traditional celebrations in this area, too. Events like these make these towns into communities. And maybe a few of us can get Dyngus Day going here, too.

And once Dyngus Day is up and running in Aberdeen, I'll lobby South Dakota to recognize Casimir Pulaski Day as a legal holiday and day off from work. But that's for another column.